


The Softer It Falls

by BronzeAgeLove



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Eventual Romance, Falling In Love, M/M, Minor Original Character, Mutual Pining, POV First Person, Sex Mentions, implied alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24794635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BronzeAgeLove/pseuds/BronzeAgeLove
Summary: Faced with down-to-earth mechanic Li during an evening drinking, manager Lorik Qui'in has to come to terms with both his unhealthy ingrained class standards and with his budding feelings towards someone who's diametrically opposed to everything he's used to...
Relationships: Lilihierax/Lorik Qui'in
Comments: 27
Kudos: 29
Collections: Mass Effect Big Bang 2020





	1. An Expensive Drink

**Author's Note:**

> My collaboration for MEBB 2020 with the lovely [heavenlyeros](https://heavenlyeros.tumblr.com)  
> Check out their artwork in its full glory [HERE](https://heavenlyeros.tumblr.com/post/622073659961507842/i-took-part-in-mebigbang-and-got-to-illustrate)! 
> 
> Beta-read by [dr-ladybird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drladybird), thank you so much for your comments and suggestions :)

Port Hanshan is always lonely. Of course you can go out, and meet people. There’s bars and restaurants, even a halfway decent opera if you squint hard enough. Plenty of opportunities to chat, bond, even fall in love, if one was so inclined. Noveria might be cold, and isolated - not only because of the climate, but more so for its strict no-nonsense vibe. This place is all about business and hard transactions. Numbers in a computer, nothing more. It is only natural that many will try to forget that, try to find a smidgen of oblivion in some stranger’s arms. Or, as I do, drown their worries in alcohol.

It’s a boring night, as all of my nights are, with the winds howling angrily over the glaciers and the steady thud of boots outside of the bar. My third drink has long gone, and yet I keep staring at the last wisp of liquid left inside the glass, as if that could will it full again. I don’t know exactly when I started drinking, or why. Only that the routine helps me ground myself. I’ve been here way too long, my soul rubbed bare in meetings and contracts and calculations. The lot of those turians who, against popular opinion, are good with numbers. We are rare, and sought after.

I have standards and expectations I’ve battled all my life to get rid of. Never managed. My mother imbued me with a sense of class from early on. I’ve never questioned this. Money was always around, and naturally I grew up in expensive clothes, enjoyed the best education, the fanciest entertainment. It’s stayed with me through boot camp, through compulsory service, and even more when I showed my affinity with finances. Everyone seemed to be eager to get their hands on me. Not that I minded. The attention did feel good, even though I‘ve grown tired of it.

And then, at one point I found myself on Noveria, in charge of a whole company. Noveria isn’t.. bad… per se, but it does lack a certain appeal other places have. I’ve grown old between sturdy walls sheltering me from the merciless snowstorms outside, and all that’s left for me to do is to order ridiculous amounts of exotic flowers from time to time, to at least get the illusion of a natural, thriving world beyond all the ice. They always wither quickly, because I barely have enough time at home to catch sleep and tend to them before trudging back to my desk, and yet, I take comfort in having them around- even if they‘ve turned into shrivelled echoes of themselves in a matter of days.

Maybe it’s the cold that’s dragging me down most of all. My joints have grown stiffer over the years, too, and while I do know my soul is still youthful, and I try to keep fit by working out, I’ve noticed my body betraying me more often than not.

I motion the bartender for a refill. They’ve been here almost as long as I have, and their expression tells it all - I’m here too often, and I’ve had way too much already today. The heat’s been spreading up my neck since the second refill, but somehow I find it hard to stop.

A whiff of machine oil and dust hits my nostrils, makes me flinch. Not something I smell every day. Strangely real. My office smells of… ozone mainly, I guess, and a little disinfectant. Whatever they use to filter the air in this dump. My head swims.

“Seat taken?” someone asks me from the side. I grunt a nondescript reply before throwing an unfocused glance in the newcomer’s direction. Turian, as I had guessed from the light background buzz of subvocals accompanying the question. Orange overalls, stained with grease. One of the mechanics skulking around the underbelly of the city. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before - but then, with all the time I spend in my office, I don’t exactly have time to go down to the garage. I do have a car, but have never used it. There’s nowhere interesting to drive to anyway.

 _What a disgrace, a manual worker in such a classy place_ , my mother’s voice pipes up. I know I should call her, she’s not been doing well lately, but right now, I don’t need her evaluations. She taught me civility though.

“Please, sit.”

“Thanks.”

His voice is softer than I would have anticipated from the overalls and smell. He orders one of the cheap brandies, clears his throat after the first sip. Either he doesn’t drink usually, or he made a bad choice.

I don’t know why exactly I do it, but I motion our bartender to exchange his drink for a better one. Vintage from Macedyn, matured for twelve years. The same as the one sitting in front of me in a pool of condensation. This bar is the only one on this ice cube of a planet to carry this specific spirit. From the generous amount still left in the bottle, I assume I’m the only one in Hanshan who can afford it.

“Long shift?” I slur when I notice the quizzical look shot my way as the glass is exchanged. My talons tap on the cool metal of the counter, an attempt at focusing.

A tilt of the head. “Could say so.”

He takes a hesitant sip from the new glass placed in front of him. With bated breath, I wait for the _harumph_ , and am strangely elated when all that reaches my ear canal is a content purr. Seems like I chose well.

“Nice. Thank you. Much appreciated.”

I grunt another pleasantry before willing my tongue into submission.

“Lorik Qui’in, manager of SynIQ.”

Another nod, just like that.

“Lilihierax. From the garage. Not quite as glamorous.” He snorts in amusement at his own joke. “Call me Li.”

 _Oh_. One frizzled neuron gives a twitch. How informal. It’s been years since anyone has introduced themselves with their given name. The apéro parties I am used to are way more stiff. I stare at Li at his casual remark, take in the deep lines of his face. My age, or probably a few years older, given the length of his fringe and the way his plates are growing uneven along the edges. He’s not exactly handsome, but there is a glint to his eyes that makes him appear much younger. Intriguing, though I’m sure it’s only the alcohol talking. My talons keep tapping on the counter, and from the corner of my eyes I notice Li staring at my hand. _Oh_. I bunch it into a fist when I realize the implication. Don’t want to appear as if I was flirting after all. Drunk or not, I have manners.

“What brings you here?” I ask after a while of silence. My throat is strangely dry, and I gotta make sure I keep my subvocals under control.

“One of my apprentices had an accident. She’s okay, but it was nerve-wracking and I needed to clear my head,” he mumbles while looking at his glass.

“Oh. Sorry to hear.”

 _Way to go Lorik, very smooth_.

He takes a big gulp of his drink, then another one - maybe to get rid of his bad memories - and I cringe. He doesn‘t seem to realize how expensive that stuff really is - but he does notice my reaction. I can’t help it.

“What’s the matter?”, he asks. His eyes set on me. His gaze is honest, I know. Unlike most of the people I have to meet with, who promise me the stars while they try to sell me their projects in the hope of getting rich. I’ve gotten real good at seeing through their lies. Li however doesn’t seem to need them. I wonder if working a menial job in the garage makes people more honest. Maybe, spending so much time in my office, where greed and cold calculations reign, has slowly darkened my soul, made me just as bad as all those money-hungry asari and turians and salarians I converse with. Or that Anoleis, the slippery, slimy bugger. Never trusted that salarian, no matter he‘s greased his way up to Administrator.

But he isn’t here right now, and he has no reign over this bar, or my thoughts. Instead, I am captivated by an elderly turian mechanic with relaxed mandibles and an amused subvocal purr, sticking out from the clientele like a bruise in his grease-stained overalls, while he sits at the rare wood counter of Hanshan‘s poshest bar.

“So?” he prompts again, and I blink once to focus my thoughts. _Awkward, Lorik_. How to tell him this brandy is expensive and needs to be appreciated properly?

“I’ve… never seen someone down brandy so quickly,” I squeak, in a pathetic attempt at appearing sure of myself. How can someone I have never met before shake my foundation so much? “It’s… one that should be savoured slowly. For the aroma.”

“Oh.” Li has the audacity to sound surprised, though his subvocals keep twittering in the same amused-relaxed tone as before. I did expect him to leave, or at least get a little disgruntled, but all he does is tilt his head to the side and fix me with those bright eyes of his. He doesn’t say anything, and neither does he move - not even a crinkle of the nose.

“I’m more used to homebrewing,” he mentions, so casually. “Throw fruit into a pot, stir, and ferment in the sun. Best stuff there is.” He takes another glug from the glass, never leaving my eyes, before reclining and exposing the whole expanse of his oil-smeared overalls in the process. Is he teasing? Trying to see how far he can take it with the stuck-up swank in his snazzy suit? I think so. The brandy is almost gone by now, and I know, just _know_ that my mandibles gave another disapproving twitch right now. Can’t help it. It’s a pride thing.

I take a sip of my own to stall some time. Let the liquid linger on my tongue for a little longer than it should, before sending it down my gullet with the daintiest of bobs I can manage. Can’t help showing off a little bit tho, and I lean back just a tad so he can see my throat work in delivering the liquor downwards. It burns, as it is supposed to, the fire dripping down into my crop and downwards, where it settles, spreading in comfortable warmth and adding to the fogginess of my brain.

“Mmh.”

The murmur comes out a little more sultry than what I had planned, though Li doesn’t seem to mind that much. I have spent enough time in the company of people interested in me - of various genders and species - to know how to hook them, may it be for personal or for business reasons.

My mother’s voice pipes up again, chiding me about blatantly flirting with a mechanic, though with all the liquor warming my gizzard it is getting increasingly easy to ignore her. Li is intriguing, the way he holds himself, so out of place in this posh bar. I am good at detecting whether someone is only putting on a mask of sorts, or if they’re genuine, but with Li, I cannot be entirely sure. He certainly acts like he is in his element, but I am pretty sure it’s the first time he’s wandered into this bar. The workers and administration don’t tend to mingle in Hanshan. There’s a sort of… silent rule, that bureaucracy and workmen don’t mix. We, up here, pull the strings for the universe, while they, in the underbelly of the city, make sure nothing hinders us at doing our jobs. They make sure the way is clear and everything runs smooth, so we can make the planets spin. Or something like that. And yet, here he is, like a relic from old times brought to the light. Solid and open, and smelling of motor oil. And I would have never thought I’d get so excited about it. Something about Li makes me feel alive, something I haven’t felt in a long time. Not at my desk, not when concluding deals, not while seducing my assistant or random people who are only after my money. This is more, somehow, and I am wholly unsuited to dealing with the situation.

“Thank you for the drink,” he says, his glass hitting the polished counter with a definite tap. I am torn from my wandering thoughts rather unceremoniously, snapping awake in the fraction of a second.

“You’re welcome,” is all I manage to say, and I keep gaping at him when he gets off his stool with a grunt, brushing against my thigh for a second while he squeezes past. So warm. So real. Another whiff of oil, and of overworked turian, reaches my nostrils. My head bobs awkwardly as I find myself unable to process what this one touch does to me.

He stops right out of my reach, throwing a look over his shoulder. His eyes, albeit tired, sparkle with honesty. “Thank you for the talk, too,” he adds. “You know where to find me should you need any tech assistance. I’ll gladly help.”

And with that, he leaves me to my alcohol-induced stupor. I sit, staring at my glass with my head spinning until the bartender gently tells me to go home.


	2. Down Below

The following weeks, I find myself thinking about Li more and more. We didn’t talk much during that one time at the bar, and yet, in the back of my head, his voice won‘t let me go. 

He is… a bit of an enigma, if I dare say so. I don't know what I see in him, but I am lonely, and both my body and mind are positive that this is an acquaintance I could get along with, and should make the effort to stay in touch - if only to add variety to of the monotonous drone that is my life. I dismiss some of those claims, purely out of habit- mom taught me class, and that it won‘t do to mingle with the lower tiers. I should know better at my age than to rebel, but that‘s exactly what I feel like right now; like a hormonal fledgling leaning against his parents‘ wishes.

When the cacophony in my head gets too bad, I call my assistant Gentiana and tell her I‘m feeling poorly. She takes it with a concerned purr, her big eyes scanning my face for any sign of discomfort. It’s not often that I go home earlier, but I can’t concentrate anymore. The numbers on the screen in front of me keep fading into each other, melting like ice in the sun - not that that ever happens here. Sunny days are few and far between, so rare that when they happen, most of my employees mysteriously call in sick. I can’t blame them. And thus, for the first time since I arrived here, I play sick too. Funny, the pang of guilt I anticipated didn't even hit.

Instead of home to my apartment, my feet take me towards the elevator to the garage, the soft thud of my boots fading away in the polished corridors. Thoughts are whirring in my head, trying to figure out a reason why I would go down there. Maybe… maybe I could ask him about my car, and that I don’t use it often. Maybe he could tell me what to do or if I need to make sure some things are taken care of before I take it out for a drive?

Well, it’s not a good reason to go meet someone, but better than nothing. When the elevator chimes its arrival on the lowest floor, I smooth down my suit to make sure I look respectable, clear my throat, and step out into the gloomy corridor leading to the garage. Does Li work today at all? My heart clenches at the prospect that my endeavour down here could be in vain. Maybe I missed him? But I don’t want to think about it. 

My eyes scan the signposting, trying to orient myself in this maze. Everything looks the same. I have vague memories of this place, mainly from the day when my car was delivered. I don’t even remember why I bought that thing, only that one morning I woke with the invoice in my email folder and a lot fewer credits in my account. 

It’s a nice little car, by all means. Two seats, all in shiny black and chrome, turian made - and wholly unsuited to this climate. But whatever. I’ve been paying for the garage space for years, I can just as well go down to have a look, stroke the shiny varnish to give it a little bit of appreciation. Even if Li isn’t there.

My footsteps fade away in the gloom of the garage as the lamps flicker to life, reflecting on the long, sombre lines of a construction spanning almost all of Hanshan. From the entrance where I stand, one can either go left or right to get to their cars- or to get utterly lost. At one far end, behind the rows of still vehicles, I can discern a beam of light and the clang of tools.

I do vaguely recall that my parking space is somewhere to the left, but my feet, the treacherous things, take me towards the mechanics’ workshop instead. Not that I’m curious by nature, I’m fairly unbothered by most people or things, so this is even more aggravating to notice a part of my mind hanging on to the hope of seeing Li. There is absolutely no reason for me to be here. I shouldn’t be here at all, so out of place in my shiny suit between the scent of oil and steel, and the occasional heat of an exhaust when someone’s vehicle rolls past. There’s even a couple of Alliance Makos, and other assorted military conveyances, far more suited to the climate than the little dinghy I possess.

As I round the corner, the clang of tools gets louder, and I hear someone cursing under their breath. The voice is too faint to discern, though given the vehemence of disgruntled subvocals I pick up the owner is not too pleased right now. Seems like someone’s car is giving them problems.

Before me, one of the giant Makos is halfway propped up on its side, with just enough space underneath for a turian to crawl under and move fairly comfortably.

“Oh, hi. Uhm,“ I start, staring at the pair of feet and dirty overalls currently sticking out of the Mako’s underbelly. They do look familiar… Unwillingly, my hands keep tugging on my suit jacket, smoothing it down. My throat constricts at realizing how weirdly out of place I am. This workshop is way too material for me, too hands-on for someone used to a screen and numbers, whose life revolves in virtual spaces.

A muffled curse under the machine as someone shoots up and hits their head, before they slide out from under the car. A breath of relief leaves my lungs when it is indeed Li emerging, and his face lighting up at seeing me is all I need in terms of reassurance. 

“Oh, hi, Lorik, watcha doing here?” he says, with only a hint of a question vibrating in his voice. My gizzard gives a clench when I realize he remembered my name, and how colloquially he uses it. I’m definitely not who he expected to see, but who cares. I pass a stealthy look over him, and against my better judgement, certain parts of me I thought dormant give a twitch at the sight. 

He’s still wearing the orange overalls I’d seen him at the bar with, though given that the garage is uncomfortably warm even for myself, who is notoriously cold all the time, he stripped them down. The sleeves are slung low around his waist, where the overalls hang loose and wide across his hip spurs, and all that's left on his torso is a ratty, grease-stained, sleeveless undershirt that draws my gaze more than it should have. Li looks… hot, in a weird way, despite his age and flaws. The disheveled worker look suits him in a way it would never do for me. 

My self-consciousness hits me hard, the way I stand forlorn in my fancy, cream-coloured, custom-tailored suit - while Li, very unashamedly and still on his back, slides one hand under his shirt to scratch his belly. 

“Uhm. I thought... I have a car and thought I should go check on it. Haven’t used it in a while.”

“Oh?” He perks up at the mention of a car - apparently this is his topic, just as money transactions and fancy operas are mine. Good to know.

“Maybe… you could help me inspect it? I don’t know anything about cars. If you’re free of course.”

“Sure. Almost finished with this one.” 

He thumps the underside of the Mako with a fist, then wipes his hands on his shirt - leaving another smear of grease and dirt - before getting up. It takes him a while and a couple of groans, and I wince in sympathy. We’re not that old - only half our natural age - but the cold gets to you. It creeps into your apartment while you sleep, and leaves your joints stiff and shoulders achey, no matter what you try to stay limber. Sometimes I wonder whether all modern medicine did was to give us all more old age to suffer through. Certainly feels like it.

Routinely, Li packs his hip bag full of tools and clips it around his waist, where it sits on his left hip spur, squashing down the overalls. He doesn’t bother with getting properly dressed, and for some reason, I admire him for it. He seems so in his element, so like a part of this world that is so foreign to me. It’s like I descended from the sky and immersed myself in a universe I don’t belong to. 

“Come on.” Li isn’t a man of many words, though he doesn’t have to. He’s emotive with his hands and eyes, and a twitch of mandibles far too often than strictly needed, and yet - it suits him. While I hover in the entrance, he delegates a few tasks to his staff busy in the other corner of the room. I don’t even know if Li is a foreman or not; though the way he states his orders in a casual yet authoritarian way, he is definitely this workshop's leader.

The swish of his low-slung overalls flapping around his legs fills my hearing as I slink after him through the garage, and while I try not to stare, I’m having the hardest time not to. He’s so close, with that threadbare tanktop barely covering the wide expanse of carapace… I would only have to extend one finger to brush against his shoulder, and catch myself wondering what he feels like. My hands clench into fists as that damned heat rushes up my neck again. I am not. No, I am surely not getting infatuated at my age. Certainly not.

My thoughts lumber to a halt when Li turns around and I find myself nose to nose with him. His eyes set on me. 

“Which way?” he asks, bouncing on the pads of his feet, as if he were to dash off every second now. 

I clear my throat. “There… I think,” I wager, pointing straight past Li’s nose in the direction where I suspect the private parking spaces are located.

“Ah, the posh wing,” he chuckles, sauntering off. “Why am I not surprised?”

I fall in step with him, mostly in an attempt of stopping my treacherous eyes and mind from eyeing him up from behind. I’m definitely not used to having crushes on people my age. I’m out of habit for flirting, too. The last few times I ended up in bed with someone who wasn’t my assistant was a while ago, and both times it was with some random people I picked up at fancy soirées, if only to show myself that I was still capable of, well, _performing_. That, I did, but I hadn’t been in it with my heart.

This is different. Li is different, too. None of that swishy silk, and perfume, and factitious behaviour. Li is down to earth, confident in what he is. _Simple_ , if that word didn’t carry so many negative connotations. So unlike everything I’m used to. Maybe that’s why I feel so drawn to his presence?

A row of tube lights flickers to life above, and I have to blink my eyes a few times before I recognize my surroundings. Yeah, this is the ‘posh wing’, as Li so aptly called it. I scan the rows of vehicles, until my eyes set on a familiar shape. “That one.”

“Niiice,” Li murmurs, squatting down on his haunches to run a hand over the - painfully neglected - surface. The dust on the hood billows. Li’s overalls shift dangerously, plunging down just enough to expose a hint of his buttocks. My head bobs as I take in the scene. Definitely not what I imagined, nor what I had hoped for - or had I..?

I squeeze my eyes shut, though that doesn’t make the situation any easier. All it does is to heighten my other senses, and Li’s appreciative murmurs and croons as he strokes the car’s smooth varnish are overly sensual... and don’t exactly help with stifling the fire rising inside of me.

_I’m too old for this. I’m jealous of that car._

But all I want is for him to caress me, to hold me, instead of fussing over a lump of metal. _What is this_ , I keep telling myself while I try keeping my breathing steady. My hands are still bunched into fists, and if Li were to look back, I’m sure he’d wonder why I am so tense.

And I’d have to tell him it’s because I’m jealous of that stupid car. _Pathetic, Lorik._

Li’s hand pats the bonnet, a gentle sound that fades away in the vast expanse of the garage. “She’s beautiful,” he says, and there is a definite hint of admiration in his voice. 

I dare open my eyes, and will my fists to unclench. A knuckle pops, hopefully unheard.

“Yeah. Never took this thing out for a ride to be honest. A rash buy, to … fill the void.” There, it was out. I had never told anyone about the loneliness before, so sure they would make fun of me, or lose their trust in me. But here, there is nobody whose trust I could lose. Li is like a well for honesty, and all he does is to incline his head and hum in thought.

“And you’ve never taken her out for a ride,” he says in the end, a hint of remorse vibrating in his voice while he keeps stroking the black varnish. His eyes flicker down for a moment to take in the patterns his fingers left on the dusty surface, before looking back up at me.

“No,” I admit. It was delivered, unboxed, and parked. Never went back down. Somewhere on my omni-tool, I do have the access code for it, but it‘ll take a while to get through the data folders to retrieve it.

“Will you be very sad if I tell you that this car will never stand up to Noveria weather?” Li asks, making one step towards me. “It would be foolish to venture out into a snowstorm with this little thing. It‘ll break down in no time.” His hand trails down over one fender, as if he were caressing a lover.

I deflate a little, although I was expecting the answer. 

“Yeah. I was stupid to get it. Can you help me check whether it’s doing okay?”

“Sure.”

Li keeps observing me. Like a steady ray of warm sunshine washing over me, that’s how it feels. _What is he looking for_ , I ask myself. Has he seen through me? Is this weird tingling I feel inside because I feel… naked? Or something else entirely.

He wrenches me out of my pondering by squatting back down (again, I am given a glimpse of his backside, flashing pale above the orange of his overalls), and I clear my throat, a wholly unintentional reaction. 

How exactly do I find myself hunched over the hood of my pristine car, staring at cables and assorted circuitry? Li is in his element. He points his wrench at various components, telling me their names, though I forget about them the second I hear them. Only thing I know is there’s a mass effect field generator somewhere inside, to keep it airborne. I never had an affinity for machinery. Not even in boot camp. As soon as they noticed I was good with finances and economics, they ushered me off to a specialized unit. Never saw anything of the military again after that - not that I mind. I wonder why Li never told me his family name, but it has dawned on me that it could have to do with him not wanting to be related to a certain name. There are lots of reasons for that, and even more reasons for someone to end up on Noveria. This place is almost as bad as exile.

Although I’m not in the least interested in the mechanics of an overpriced, out of place sports car, I do feign interest by humming from time to time, or giving an appreciative croon when Li’s subvocals start derailing in sheer excitement. Well, maybe I _am_ interested, though not in the vehicle, and more in the person currently sliding around underneath it, occasionally giving an excited coo that reminds me of little chicks confronted with a juicy treat. I wish I hadn’t lost my own youthful enthusiasm. Experiencing Li right now fills me with a weird feeling of warmth, bubbling in my gut and creeping up towards my neck. There is a pull, somehow, telling me I should get down there as well, marvel at the belly of a car, bumping shoulders in a confined space with someone I don’t really know but who, for some reason, keeps pulling me into his orbit, like gravity working on a body of water.

It is that moment, when I keep swaying absentmindedly, that Li decides to get up. He tries, very valiantly, to do it in a lively, youthful way - and stumbles. I sense the move, shifting my weight to my right leg - 

His hand lands on my thigh with a smack, squeezing down on my flesh, and we both groan - he in a mixture of dismay and pain, I in surprise, because that one touch is spreading through me like wildfire, like a zap of electricity.

My senses kick in. I grab him, my hand wrapping around his upper arm and dragging him up. He’s heavier than I would have anticipated, but I still manage to set him upright on his feet. The hand on my thigh loosens its grip, and I am feeling strangely vulnerable without it there. There is still a phantom touch lingering, fading in a second.

“You okay?” I rasp, my heart still thundering - whether from being startled, or because of hormones inundating my system for no real reason, I don’t know.

“Sorry. Bad knees,” he answers, a little disgruntled. “My fault.”

“No, no,” I am quick at reassuring. I wouldn’t mind more touch if I had to be honest, though I don’t know he realizes what this did to me. Or maybe he did? I do recognize that glint in his eyes, the hint of mischief that drew me to him the first time we met. 

Craving for the heat of his touch to come back, my gaze wanders down to my thigh, where a distinct three-fingered handprint graces the shiny, creamy fabric of my suit. My subvocals slip for just a second as my brain registers the stain. Numbers start scrolling behind my eyes. How much it will cost me to get it cleaned, how much Li earns, how much I paid for this suit in the first place… my eyes dart up to lock with Li’s, who was staring at the dirty print with horror before daring to look up. His mandibles quiver, in that unspoken terror that besets young fledglings in boot camp when their sergeant comes to roast them over some unimportant slip-up. 

“I -” he starts, before falling silent. 

“It’s okay.” Again, the cleaner’s bill scrolls in front of my eyes, and I squeeze them shut for a second. I don’t want Li to feel bad about this, even if most of my brain is trying to tell me that a handprint on my suit is the worst offense ever. My voice comes from far away, like an echo through water. “I can get it cleaned easily, don’t worry.” 

It‘s a lie. I heard multiple times motor oil is one of the worst substances to get rid of - no matter how ‘advanced’ our civilization, this stuff will not budge. The suit is done for.

“But-” he says again, sounding so much like a scared fledgling that I can’t but feel bad for him. In any other universe, with anyone else, I would have been angry, and sent them away, for tarnishing my impeccable appearance. Not now. To be honest, it is the contrary. All I’d want is for him to touch me again, because that one quick touch to my thigh felt so blistering hot. It lingers, penetrates deep, where over the years, dozens of soft hands and bodies, and sometimes lips, only gave me passing pleasure. _Touch me again, leave all the dirty handprints you want on my suit, if only you never stop…_

It’s here and now that I do have to admit to myself that I want more of our encounter than exchanging mere pleasantries. I want him, the old, rugged mechanic I had never seen before in my life, until he simply barged in, parking his ass on a bar stool adjacent to mine. I want him to listen to me, laugh at my jokes, I want him to tell me stories about his life. I want to _scent mark_ him, if only so nobody else will lay claim on him, for spirits sake! Who would have thought, that at his age, manager Lorik Qui’in would fall for a mechanic… From one moment to the next, Noveria doesn’t look as drab and inhospitable as it did before anymore.

A rueful little huff dislodges itself from my throat as I watch Li, still cowering wide-eyed in front of me. I feel bad for him. Has he had bad experiences with others from my standing? It almost seems like it, and remorse - no, almost hatred, for the higher classes keeps rising in my throat. For those like me. For myself. Nobody should have the right to judge those in lower standing, even though I’ve done it uncountable times - as casually as with a shrug. It was my every day, my job almost, to profit by making money on other people’s backs. And even though I know I will never be able to escape what I am, to escape the life I‘m trapped in, I might be able to make an effort to change. And realizing this is what I am taking back up to my apartment today. I do not know if I will be able to. But I can try, at my old age, to become the best version of myself despite the job I do, despite the way it sucks me dry in the most unpleasant way. No amount of flowers, or money, or companionship, could ever fill the void inside.

“It’s okay.” 

I shut the car’s bonnet with more vehemence than needed, the boom resounding in the garage far too loudly for my taste. Li’s mandibles clamp close to his face, but he takes my hand nonetheless when I reach out to him. We gotta get out of here. I don’t want Li to harbour bad feelings for something he loves. One day, I might invite him for a joyride, on one of the rare Noveria days when it doesn’t storm and the sun’s out. I’m sure my car could handle _that_. I’ve never seen it myself, but I heard stories of how the pale sun manages to pierce the clouds, scattering the sheets of ice with soft, golden light. One day, I want to see it, and I want to see it with someone important.

We make our way back to the mechanic’s shed silently, my hand still guiding Li along by his upper arm - I would be lying to say I only did it to steady him, after all his knees are giving him trouble - but I do long for that flash of heat to come back, and I want to do everything I can to make him feel safe. The way he trudges on besides me, his subvocals carefully flat, shows me that he’s not forgiven himself for his ‘insubordination’, or whatever he wants to call it. His farewell is curt and correct, as he should when addressing a customer, and it takes all my willpower to reciprocate with the proper decorum.

The way back to my apartment is a blur. Feeding the access code, taking off my boots, trudging past the umpteenth excessive shipping of flowers I ordered to get a bit of colour into my life. 

I collapse on my couch with a groan, sinking into the plush cushions without an afterthought about my soiled suit. The sofa filling envelops me like a soft ocean, welcoming me into its embrace. What's happening to me? I am not sure, only that this encounter at the garage has revealed new sides of me - and of Li. I want to see him again, I want to know more about him. There must be a reason why he hasn’t introduced himself with his family name… but those are thoughts for later. Right now, I want to take him out, and court him, the way it’s meant to be. With colours, and nice presents, and as much head bobbing as my stiff neck can handle. Does he like flowers as much as I do? Does he like Opera? I’m not sure about it, don’t even know if he’s into cultural pursuits at all, but I vow to myself that I will introduce him to the best circles this ice cube has to offer. And Li will shine at my side.


	3. Under The Covers

Despite what happened at the garage, we do grow closer, very tentatively, over the next month. I send down a letter with my contact details to the garage, and am grumpy and snappish all day while I wait for a reply. Only when he does, my mood brightens.

Whether it’s a simple nod or the gentle flick of a mandible in greeting should our eyes meet through a window, or at the cantina, we communicate. I have started taking a little more interest in the lives of my subordinates, so I find myself encroaching on their territories more often. Shopping in the bargain stores, going to the cinema, eating at the workers’ cantina. It’s… new, but exciting at the same time. And while in the beginning, I did feel wrong and vulnerable for doing so, for sitting on their austere metal benches in my expensive suits, eating their food and listening to their everyday conversations, it’s become a sort of a grounding ritual for me by now.

Everything is going smoothly, Li even seems tentatively joyous when I promise to take him along to the next opera performance - until that fateful day when I truly get an invitation.

Big thing, business meeting with fancy dinner, expensive spirits and sealing the deal, then watching the newest show from a private booth. Nothing spectacular, I have done this kind of deal often enough by now. The envelope opens to show two tickets - and I hesitate. With a pang, I remember that I wanted to take Li along to the opera, to see if he likes it. I remember him even writing to me about this new show, but… staring at the shiny silver-rimmed tickets, doubt spreads through my gizzard, creeping upwards to squeeze my throat. No, I cannot do it. I cannot take him along. Even if I promised it to him… I cannot. I cannot show myself with a mechanic when I’m supposed to be socializing with the galaxy’s A-List.

“Gentiana?” I activate my omni-tool to call my assistant. My voice sounds strangely hollow, and I hope she won’t notice anything wrong.

Gentiana has only started working for me a few years ago, transferred from another of SynIQ’s branches, from somewhere closer to the homeworld.

The door slides open with the faintest of hisses.

“Yes, Mr. Qui’in?”

She’s a wispy thing, all eyes and mandible twitches and soft purrs, dressed in the latest fashions from the Citadel, and I wonder how exactly she got around compulsory training and instead landed herself an exorbitantly well-paid job at assisting an old pellet such as me on a frozen rock. Not as if the promotion possibilities were huge here.

“Would you like to attend the opera with me next week? Beckmann Financial are inviting,” I say, and I feel like a traitor. Li’s face, with its soft hopefulness looms at the front of my mind. Of course she would like to. She’s come along a few times already, and has always been impeccable company. Gentiana is well-spoken, funny, and seductively charming. No matter who my business partners are - she can get them all. We make an incredibly good team when it comes to sealing deals, and also … more privately. Not that it stands between us, it’s purely professional, and we both know our boundaries. Gentiana lets me forget, sometimes, that I’m old and lonely. I should be allowed this much indulgence.

And yet, seeing her right now leaves me with a bad feeling.

“Of course, Mr. Qui’in,” she mewls in that pleasant way of hers, and I just know that she will be the best company I could wish for. My mother, from the back of my mind, approves of my choice. I, on the other hand, do not. I feel like a traitor, for raising Li’s hopes and then crushing them in this way.

The evening itself passes as if in a blur. Dressed in a tight glittery something that looks as if it came straight from the catwalks of Cipritine, Gentiana picks me up at my place, and compliments me on my choice of suit. From the glint in her eye, I suspect that she hopes the night to continue long after the opera is through - though I’d rather not have her in my quarters today. I’ve not been too great lately, and it shows in my neglect for my apartment. Not for myself, I force myself to always look on point. But I haven’t managed to wash my food bowls, and all my flowers have withered by now. I need to order fresh ones, but for some reason right now I am not feeling like it. Even going on the extranet and clicking through the ordering process is too much of a hassle. More so when I had one too many.

On the upside, a good thing about my experience with business deals is that I can do them on autopilot. We eat, and joke, and exchange pleasantries all while trying to impress each other with strategically executed body language. A flock of high standing turians is a sight to behold for sure - a human business woman I once talked to during a soirée said she likes to compare us to peacocks, with our colourful, fashionable attire and the way we strut about purring as if the world belonged to us. I had to look that animal up, and watched a couple videos, and must admit she wasn’t too far off with her assessment. Very on-point. Minus their voices.

I manage to get through the dinner and deal with minimal effort, while Gentiana hangs off my elbow in her charming way, brazenly flirting with everyone in the room. She is admirable, I know, and while I do feel the tell-tale pull of her working on me, my mind scolds me for even thinking about it.

While we head on to the opera house, Li’s face keeps appearing in front of my eyes, not unlike an illusion, and all through the performance, I cannot get him out of my head. I barely register what’s happening on stage, the music trickling through my brain without leaving their imprint. I promised Li to take him along, and very coldly fobbed him off - simply because I kept on being the same old stubborn bird. Unable to change, unable to better myself. Is this what my job has made of me?

Gentiana notices me being absent-minded. It is a bit awkward to hear her gently concerned subvocals, and I try to downplay it by saying I’m tired. It’s true, I haven’t had my customary evening drink yet and I am noticing that I am getting more fretful too. It takes me enormous willpower not to get up and leave, go anywhere, just not to be here. I scoot around on the plush seat impatiently, earning another concerned look from Gentiana. Not a good omen.

Relief rushes through me when the performance is done and all the good-bye parting rituals have been performed. The deal is sealed, both me and Gentiana have done our jobs, and maybe I should not keep pondering on Li for once. I told him I was busy tonight, which is true. I would keep this a secret, and hopefully be able to take him out another time. This one time… doesn’t matter, I try to tell myself as I steer Gentiana down Hanshan’s main boulevard, dodging the other passers-by. It’s a busy night, and I remember it’s paycheck day. Plenty of money to spend, for all tiers of society. Even for mechanics on a lonely night.

A flash of orange overall snaps me back into reality.

Our eyes meet over the street. At my side, Gentiana makes a questioning little sound, tugs on my sleeve. _Let’s go_ , she seems to say, _we’re headed to your place. We’re gonna have a good time_. I have frozen up completely, staring at Li in disbelief with Gentiana hanging off my arm. The look on Li’s face is hard to decipher, though I believe to detect a bit of hurt, or disappointment, as he takes in the sight of me and Gentiana so preened and elegant. It’s clear where we’ve been. It’s probably clear where we’re going. And it hits so hard. He’s right. I let him down, and that hurts more than anything.

His shoulders lift, then drop as if in a deep inhale, and then he’s gone, faded back into the busy street.

The urge to run after him like some fool is strong, but the weight of Gentiana’s grip, gently holding me back, breaks the spell I was under. “What’s up?” she asks, her subvocals shifting into confusion when I brush her hand off my elbow.

“Urgent business, I have to go. See you tomorrow.”

It’s all I manage to croak before abandoning her, in her sequined dress, in the middle of the street. I need a drink. So, so badly. Because I’m the biggest idiot this galaxy has ever seen.

I don‘t know how he finds me. I don‘t even have to look up to know it’s him when a hand presses down on my shoulder. The hint of machine oil, so dear to me by now, heralds his arrival way before he speaks.

“You‘re drunk, Lorik,” Li says, the flange in his voice flat. “Again.” He says it quietly, though it hurts more than if he‘d shouted it. I know he‘s right. I know. He’s noticed by himself that I tend to drink too much. But it’s so hard? It’s hard being here, it’s hard being me.

I whine, a selfish little sound lost against the wooden counter.

“I‘m sorry,” is all I manage to say. “I‘m sorry,” over and over, as if the sheer amount would make it better. I feel bad, so bad, for leaving him behind, for overlooking him because of those damned ingrained beliefs from a life I am trying to escape so badly.

“Come on, time to put you to bed.”

I don‘t have the strength to oppose him. He leads me through the almost deserted corridors of Hanshan, only occasionally asking me for directions. And those I can give even while intoxicated - I‘ve stumbled home drunk by myself often enough. My feet know the way even when the rest of me does not know anymore.

I don‘t struggle either when he pushes me towards my bedroom, past the myriad of vases with withered, shrivelled-up flowers hanging their heads.

I would never let anyone get close to me or see the real me at work. What makes Lorik Qui‘in is a carefully constructed image, all pleasant growls and honest eyes that will only flash in warning when someone tries getting on my bad side. But this… this is pathetic. I’m old and lonely, drowning my worries in exotic flowers and overpriced brandy. And yet, Li doesn‘t seem to mind.

He sits me down on the edge of the bed, and busies himself around me. His hands are warm as they peel me out of my jacket, then my blouse. I shudder under the touch. The realization of how touch-starved, how needy, I am pokes through the alcohol haze clouding my brain. He‘s here, so close I can feel the soft wisps of his exhale tickle my hide. Oh, what would I give for this moment to last forever.

“Stay?” I slur, on impulse, unable to stop the word before it leaves my mouth.

“Would you like me to?”

As always when I feel cornered by him, I avert my gaze to my hands fumbling in my lap. “Yeah.”

His eyes, wise but sparkling with the tiniest hint of amusement, set on me - a steady prickling on the back of my head.

“Gladly,” he says, after a few seconds that stretch into eternity. My field of vision shifts to the ceiling as he pushes me back into the bed, wanders to the snow falling outside. Softer for once, as if the planet itself had calmed down and found some peace. Spirits, I am tired. In front of the holo window, the snow swirls in thick clouds, obscuring the faraway peaks from my view. The last thing I feel before I lose consciousness is a warm, solid body pressing against my side.

When I wake, my head still swims. My tongue is a dry lump stuck against the roof of my mouth, strangely furry. With a disgusted _ech_ , I rub my eyes with one knuckle. I am at home, in my bed, this much my burning eyes can detect. Spirits, I feel as if I just had a bumpy shuttle landing. That’s what you get for drinking without objective, I should know better. Warmth permeates my back. So I’m not alone. Last night’s events emerge from the fog of my mind. Did I go home with Gentiana? It’s all rather blurry. With a groan, I heave my aching body around - only to find myself face to face with Li, still blissfully asleep. Li, not Gentiana. My heart skips for a fraction of a second. He’s here, less than a palm’s width from me, close enough for me to see every line of his face, every little crack in his plates. He looks… well lived in, my mother would say, in her dismissive tone. Again, I feel old, as if I wasn’t allowed this… infatuation, or whatever it is.

He stirs, and my throat constricts, caught in a forbidden act. What is this? I cannot really say. It feels both ancient and new… an emotion I had buried under long days and even longer nights working at my desk, poring over finance plans, reports, transactions. Buried in way too many glasses of brandy - and in the fake smiles of way too many hasty acquaintances. Warm, it rises in my chest, drying my throat as it creeps up, like one of the strangling vines growing on the homeworld. I do miss seeing greenery. And like mist pouring over the surface of a lake before pooling at one’s feet, the emotion finally bubbled out between my teeth and the awkward quiver of my mandibles.

His eyelids flutter open, set on me. And to my surprise, they light up with soft affection when he recognizes me.

_Oh._

My throat constricts. “I-” I begin, before my courage flees and the words die in a just as embarrassing, drawn-out squeak completely undignified of a man my age. I cannot say it.

From the corner of my eyes I see him deflate a little, as if he wasn’t exactly sure of what’s happening. Maybe he’s just as disoriented as I am, after waking. I flinch when he reaches out towards me. All I wanna do is to bury myself under my covers, and forget. A small part of me clings to the hope that he’ll leave. _What are you, Lorik, some lovestruck fledgling?_ What was I thinking?

His hand, rough and warm, as always smelling faintly of motor oil, sets down on my arm for an idle caress. My eyes fall close against my will. _Touch-starved_ , my mother’s words shoot through my hazy brain. But if I have to be honest, I don’t mind a bit. Let me be touch-starved. I may be hungover, but I still have control over myself. I am old enough to know what I want. And I will not be denied what I want.

“Good morning,” he mumbles, only to chirp in a startled way when I reach out to draw him close. Our noses bump together, a little awkwardly, but right now I don’t care. I’m sick of always projecting this image of distinguished gentleman. Yes, I am indeed touch-starved, and it’s been way too long since I found anyone I wanted to be with. _Really_ wanted to be with. No matter what everyone else would say, what my upbringing would say. We stay like this for a while, forehead to forehead, inhaling each other’s scents. My breath is a little ragged, each puff of air against Li’s face hot and fast.

Li stays still. A little stiff at first, he fights against being held, before he relaxes. “You smell, Lorik,” is all he says after a while. I don’t have the emotional capacity to be offended by it, and in any case, his subvocals vibrating through my chest right now only sing of amusement.

Embarrassment shoots hotly up my neck. Flustered, I break our contact. Where are my manners. “Sorry. Will pop a cleaning tab in a minute.”  
  
Against my expectation, he doesn’t encourage me leaving, but presses up against me instead, smoothly slotting against my body. He’s smaller than me and stocky, and he fits almost perfectly against my lean form. Not what I expected at all, though it is a welcome change to my usual mornings of dragging myself out of bed, setting the kitchen command for some fresh kava, and absent-mindedly staring at myself in the mirror for far too long before heading out to another mindless, soul-sucking day at the office. This… is much more exciting, too.

We stay for a while, concentrating on our own breathing, not talking - as if we were going to scare the moment away if we did. It’s almost comical, two old birds like us half-naked in bed, unable to say what we feel. It would be comical, if it weren’t so real, and so urgent. My body is reacting on its own. The part of my brain that’s usually controlling my life has retreated to somewhere dark, except for the persistent voice telling me to be proper, and to stop this madness.

“Maybe we shouldn’t -” is all I manage to utter before Li silences me with two talons pressed to my mouth plates. As if hit by a flash of electricity, I hush.

“Don‘t be a pellet, Lorik,” he murmurs against my throat, moist from his exhales. “Why not.”

His fingers leave their place on my chin, wandering down to curl on the inside of my cowl, leaving a hot trail down my neck that keeps tingling long after the touch is gone. And it’s infuriating, the way my body reacts on its own, screaming its want from the top of its lungs. I’m not a wee lil fledgling anymore! I’m in control of myself and my reactions, and even if this is going to amount to something - I’m suddenly not certain about myself anymore. About being enough. No matter what part of me. Just.. _not enough_. The thought grips my heart, squeezes my throat.

I’ve never been someone to worry about making wrong decisions. My mother made sure she raised me to get a healthy self esteem and, well, a healthy dose of selfishness to go with it. It's what propelled me so far, what has dictated my life for decades. Feeling unworthy, or lacking, has never come to me. I’ve handled harsher scrutiny before. Why now?

Li seems to notice my insecurity. The roving hand halts, and wiggles underneath the covers instead, to rest lightly at the waistband of my trousers. “You okay?” he murmurs, his eyes scanning my face, undoubtedly taking in every twitch of mandible and scrunch of nose, every smallest shift in my melody. “I can stop.”

“No.”

I am quick to respond, even though it’s no more than a whisper. My head still swims, my back twinges, and my throat is so dry I won’t even attempt to swallow. No, I don’t want him to stop, even though I am surprised at his proactive role. I’m not used to being passive - no matter in what situation, and I squirm under the stroke of his rough thumb at the divide between the waistband and my hide.

 _Get a grip, Lorik_ , I chide myself. I make an effort to pull myself together. One of my hands wanders up to Li’s own waist, the other sneaks between us to stroke along the length of a mandible, making him purr. If there is one thing I love most about my own species it’s the sheer broadness of sounds we can make. Compared with the others, no matter whether salarians, humans or asari, they are all pitiful and lacking. They lack the finesse of turian articulation. And Li is fantastic, subvocals twittering higher and higher, reverberating in my chest, while mumbling sweet pleasantries too soft for me to understand. Alive, that’s what I feel like, despite all the aches and pains and my throbbing head, my feelings of inadequacy. Lorik Qui’in is alive, very much alive, in the arms of a mechanic older than himself - but it doesn’t matter.

We spend a little more time stroking here and there, exploring at our own pace, before Li exhales and wiggles out of my embrace. His mandibles keep twitching, as they so often do when he’s a little unsure, so I keep my eyes closed as not to appear too overbearing.

“You should rest, Lorik,” he finally says, while one of his hands keeps petting the back of my head. It is clear he’s having as much difficulty at restraining himself as I do, and yet - down to earth Li strikes again, going for the obviously best option. He is right, I know. Even if it’s not what I want, and my body is like a small child being denied a treat - throwing a tantrum and screaming at me.

“Yeah…” I grumble back, exactly like a little child, eliciting a chuckle from Li who keeps looking at me with his wise eyes. “Rest. We’ll talk tomorrow,” he whispers again, craning his neck for a chaste little lick along my mouth plates before he retreats. The rustling of his clothes being put on at the edge of my hearing, I slide into the middle of the bed, perfectly cradled in the bowl, and curl up. Just like a little chick, safe and warm in its parents’ embrace.

My heart aches. I know we do have a lot to talk about. About my inabilities to see anyone. About boundaries, and how to get better. I am not looking forward to it. It’s going to be hard, way harder than anything I’ve done in my life.

But not now. For now, I will lie in bed, enveloped in the scent of motor oil, and dream. And outside, the snow falls softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! heavenlyeros and me hope you enjoyed this little MEBB fic! For both of us, it was the first time participating in this kind of challenge, and what a time it was!  
> Please let us know how you liked our story, we'd love to hear from you :)


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